


Deduction: BUSTED

by Aida



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack?, Fun with tape!, Gen, Humor, The author likes to like really weird stories..., possible crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft shows up at Baker Street to see Sherlock and John working on an... <i>intriguing</i> experiment.</p><p>And believe it or not, it's not sexual in nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deduction: BUSTED

**Author's Note:**

> If you can guess what show is being talked about (it shouldn't be that hard to guess) I will hug you with my mind because they have not mastered the technology yet to let you actually hug people through the internet. But let's be honest, that would be just plain weird... aaand a little creepy.

John had hoped that it would be one of those days where no one would try to come barging in. At least, not someone that Sherlock didn’t like just storming in and seeing him in a compromising position. That pretty much included everyone.

Unfortunately, the person who was on the top of that list decided to show himself in without knocking on the door. 

John himself was reading the newspaper when he heard those slow, yet light steps on the stairway, and he immediately rose and blocked off the kitchen, shutting the door and the divider before Mycroft even made it halfway up the stairs. 

“Ah, afternoon, John.” The elder Holmes brother greeted with a cold smile, using his umbrella as a walking stick.

“Mycroft, afternoon.” John greeted, standing by the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to speak to my brother about a case I need his assistance on.” He explained.

John tried to keep his facial features placid. “Sherlock?” He inquired lightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. You just missed him. You see, he-.”

“John.” Mycroft cut in coldly, smile looking strained like his patience. “I know my brother’s here. Now where is he?”

John fought the urge to fidget. It almost felt like he was being scolded by his parents. “Ah… Well, Mycroft. It just so happens that-.”

Once again, John’s reply was cut short, but not by Mycroft. No, it was cut off by a loud, low, rumbling sound. John’s eyes closed and his expression grew pained as Mycroft’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“What on earth was that?” Mycroft asked slowly. 

“Your brother.” John answered shortly, causing Mycroft to cast him a look. “He’s… he snores…”

“I’ve known my brother for quite a bit longer than you have, John.” He said smoothly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t snore. That is, unless he’s sick or he’s on drugs.”

“Well, no, that’s quite not true!” John said quickly as Mycroft started to approach the divider in the kitchen. “It just depends on his position and where he’s sleeping!”

“John, are you trying to cover for my brother?” Mycroft asked. “Because I refuse to leave this flat until I see him.”

John winced. “He really doesn’t want to see you right now.”

“He never does.” Mycroft said, stepping around the ex-army doctor and swinging the divider open, only to furrow his brow in confusion when he didn’t see anything. The snore came back, causing Mycroft to look up, and he finally got his answer. “Ah.”

There, on the ceiling, in a cocoon of silver gaffer tape, was Sherlock Holmes. 

His head was bowed downward, and his entire body was slack against the tape holding him up. His face, if one tilted their head just so to see, was a picture of drooling serenity, a pool of it on the table he was suspended over.

“How did my brother wind up taped to the ceiling?” Mycroft asked. He looked at John when he didn’t answer. “No…”

“Okay, yes. I did it.” John said firmly. “I showed him this American show on my laptop, and out of all the experiments he wanted to try after seeing it, this was the safest. He then asked me to leave him up there for an hour.”

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow. “And how long has he been up there?”

“Uh…” John said, checking his watch. His eyes went wide. “Oh! Well, three….-ty. Threety five. Thirty-five minutes.”

“I see…” Mycroft said. “Well, I think he’s been up there long enough. Sherlock!”

Sherlock didn’t even flinch at his name being called. In fact, his snoring got louder. Mycroft’s lips pursed.

“ _Sherlock_ …” Mycroft called, getting louder. He only got a twitch of Sherlock’s eyebrow that time. 

John decided to help Mycroft along. “ _Sherlock_!” 

The consulting detective’s head jerked as he grunted and snuffled to wakefulness. His body struggled momentarily, but he immediately relaxed after a moment. He then turned his squinted eyes at John.

“John? How long have I-?” He started, only to see Mycroft standing next to him. His eyes immediately slacked and his brows narrowed. “Oh.”

“John here says you’ve been conducting experiments that you’ve seen on American television.” Mycroft stated simply. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it short, dear brother. I have a job for you.”

“Oh, go do it yourself. This is much more fun.” Sherlock said, barely twitching the only bit of free hand he had. “I would suggest you try it, but you wouldn’t last ten seconds suspended like this.”

“Why would I try?” Mycroft replied. “In fact, why would _you_ try? There’s bound to be more fruitful experiments to be done.”

“John suggested it.” Sherlock replied simply, causing Mycroft to stare at John, who was hiding his smirk. “Besides, this is incredibly comfortable. I could stay up here all day. Did I fall asleep?”

“You did.” John said. “You snored, _and_ you drooled.”

“Ah, well I’ve never felt more rested!” Sherlock said, almost amazed at the prospect. “We should do this more often.”

“I am not stringing you to the ceiling with gaffer tape every night.” John said shortly. 

“Oh, I could think of a way to make it work.” Sherlock mused aloud. “Maybe not gaffer tape, but a harness or two. Maybe a blanket. Do it over my bed so there’s something soft for me to land on, and- wait, Mycroft? What are you doing?”

As Sherlock spoke, Mycroft walked around the table, as if sizing it up. After making one full round, he was smirking and measuring, using his umbrella as a guide. Eventually, he chortled, the tip of his umbrella extending as a sharp blade and with a flash of movement, he cut the tape and caused Sherlock to fall onto the table with a yelp, a bang, and a groan.

“Enough fooling around.” Mycroft mused, blade shrinking back. “We have work to do. John, if you don’t mind, I’d like some tea after you’re done making sure my brother’s ego isn’t permanently damaged.”

As Mycroft made it to the sitting room, John immediately rushed over to Sherlock’s aid, helping him roll over without falling off the table. 

“Good lord, you practically belly flopped down!” John hissed as Sherlock rubbed at his forehead. John dug around the tape and lifted his friend’s shirt, checking for anything out of the ordinary. He palpated the man’s stomach, earning some more grunts of pain and eventually backed off, tugging the shirt back down.

“Looks like nothing too serious.” John concluded. “Just need to keep an eye on it.”

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock groused as he sat up. “I’ll have some of that tea as well.”

“Of course you will.” John said as he busied himself with the kettle and fetching the mugs. As he did this, Sherlock glared towards the sitting room and at the back of his brother’s fat head.

“John.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget how my brother likes his tea: milk, three sugars, and a heavy dose of _laxatives_ …”

**Author's Note:**

> In case I'm wrong, or I'm right but no one else has a clue, gaffer tape is another name for duct tape. Why? Because chief electricians in British theatre and film are called _gaffers_! The more you know! 
> 
>  
> 
> (I know I'm a dork and that it's a big problem.)


End file.
